


The Past is a Grave

by vogue91



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Ficlet, Gen, Introspection, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 12:30:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13166964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: “Because you’re different, can’t you see?” he thought he could hear his father’s voice, mixed with alcohol, during one of his usual outbursts of rage toward his sonBut, in this case, Severus was forced to admit he was right.





	The Past is a Grave

Laying down, abandoned to himself, abandoned to recovery in a bed, in an empty room, too much empty.

As always.

He hated the contact with other human beings, and yet he couldn’t deny that, from time to time, he would’ve liked for someone to care about him, to be next to him.

Then a thought brushed his mind and hurt him.

He had had someone.

And now, he had lost her.

The high fever made him almost delirious, making him lose himself in images of her with _him_.

Hateful, as nothing else.

And yet, undefeatable for Severus.

He sighed, slowly. He felt without strength, for reason beside the sickness.

He was tired to fight, tired to see her with that happy gaze in her eyes, that weren’t for him since a very long time.

He turned around in the bed, putting the pillow on his head, in the mad attempt to choke the intrusion of those thoughts in his mind.

During those moments, when pain became too oppressing to be stood, he dreamt of being a different person.

Someone like everybody else, someone who had a right to take what he wanted.

Instead for too many years he had played the part of the good friend, denying himself any action that would show his desire of being a lover, of having the right to brush her skin, to kiss her, to take her any time he wanted.

It would’ve never happen, because he wasn’t that person.

 _“Because you’re different, can’t you see?”_ he thought he could hear his father’s voice, mixed with alcohol, during one of his usual outbursts of rage toward his son

But, in this case, Severus was forced to admit he was right.

He _was_ different, and he wasn’t going to change, for this being introverted, bashful and diffident was a part of his blood, his mind, his actions.

And so he could just watch the constant flow of broken dreams in front of him, letting himself wandering through worlds and places unknown, where he amused himself feeding the feeling of her caresses, remembering her light and felt touch, imagining it, for she wasn’t by his side anymore.

And he had a right to own her, as if he really could, in a glimpse of shadow almost created, almost stolen to the surrounding light, because shadow was the only thing he had to offer.

But it wouldn’t have been enough for her, and he knew it all too well.

She had made her choice and he had painfully recognised that. All that light was blinding him, and he had to walk away.

Never been lover, not anymore a friend.

The fever made him gag, but he knew how deeper his sickness went.

It was inborn, bound to his nature, to his substantial incapability to live, but to just exist.

That wasn’t enough for her.

He had learnt to settle.

Severus Snape was a gloomy, introverted, taciturn boy.

He was condemned to exist eternally, and to never actually live.


End file.
